Two weeks in, and I'm feeling like a Barry's Bootcamp pro. I can lift heavier weights and run an 8-minute mile with ease. When a newbie walks in, I feel an incredible sense of relief that I'm no longer in her shoes. Then, I experience my worst class ever.
It all starts when I'm squatting against a mirror. We're doing the chair sit, an exercise where you mimic sitting in a chair, minus the chair. It creates a mean burn in your thighs and legs. As we cross the minute and a half mark, my legs start shaking. Not just a little shake, more like an earthquake shake. Each second feels like a full minute. And right before the two-minute mark, I stand up in order not to collapse. Unfortunately, Barry sees me cheat. "Five more seconds," he yells as he points to me. About a dozen fellow bootcampers glare in my direction as they continue to hold the position. Please let me get through these next five seconds, I pray.
But the pain only gets worse. In the next exercise, we're asked to place our feet through giant rubber bands to work on a kickback move. As I swing my leg forward, an intense, searing pain ricochets through my right hip. I'm stuck and I don't know what to do. So I do the first thing that comes to mind: I run out of class.
As I sit on the lobby bench, I can't help but feel like the biggest loser ever -- and not in the TV show good kind of way. I'm pretty sure Barry has lost all hope for me. Maybe he'll even think I made up a hip injury to get out of Bootcamp. OK, I'm being irrational. I know this. But right now I just want to feel sorry for myself.
And as if I can't do that on my own, I watch as everyone else seems to sprint out of class to a new, shiny Mercedes or BMW. I limp back to my old, used Honda. Stupid class, stupid people, stupid hip.
But the next day, I'm back at Barry's. Is this what they mean by exercise addiction?
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Me? A masochist?
This is the crazy part of the whole Bootcamp experience -- while I dread going each time, I can't not go. I go on the weekdays, on the weekends. I go when I'm tired, and when I'm dealing with serious PMS.
I used to scoff at the idea of exercise addiction, but after speaking with Pamela Peeke, MD, spokesperson for the National chapter of the American College of Sports Medicine, and author of "Body for Life for Women," I find out that you actually can get physiologically hooked on exercise. "When you work out regularly, you're actually changing your genetic expression," she tells me. "That's how potent and powerful exercise is."
So, maybe the workout fiends in this city aren't so weird after all. And I have to admit, I'm psyched my newfound exercise habit is one that I can take pride in -- unlike my Diet Coke addiction. In fact, I can't take pride in much of my nutrition plan. If I don't work just as hard on my diet as my workout, am I just chasing my tail?
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My non-healthy eating plan
OK. Here's the cold, hard, embarrassing truth: I'm not sticking to a super-healthy eating plan while working out at Barry's. While my coworker, Anna, stuck to lean proteins and salads while she was following this hot Hollywood workout plan, I've been eating my usual diet. And that would be fruit, yogurt, and an occasional bagel for breakfast; a frozen meal for lunch; fat-free pudding, string cheese, and trail mix for snacks; and whatever Brooks cooks for dinner, from shrimp enchiladas to pizza. Oh, and some low-fat ice cream for dessert and the occasional late-night pancake run.
Even though Barry warned me at the beginning that I needed to follow a healthy eating plan to see the best results, I'm not really listening ... so how are those tight jeans fitting me after my month-long Barry's Bootcamp adventure, you wonder?
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My results
Weight: 135.5 Total weight lost in one month: 2.2 lbs
Measurements: Bust: 34 3/4" Waist: 27 1/2" Hips: 35" Arm: 10 3/4" Thigh: 19 1/2" Total inches lost all over my body in one month: 5 1/2"
So I didn't get Kim Kardashian's body -- there's a shocker! But I lost 2 pounds and a total of 5 1/4" from my body, with most inches lost on my bust and waist. And those skinny jeans I complained about? They don't leave those severe red marks anymore. I'm proud of the inches, but honestly, I'm a little disappointed. It seems like all the work I put in didn't quite equal the results I ended up with.
When Barry and I talked about how I did, he said I would have seen better results if I kept a food journal and stuck to a healthy eating plan. Looking back, I wish I kept track of my diet. Perhaps that gummy bear/French fry combo wouldn't have looked so good if I actually had to write it down.
But there's some good stuff. In terms of stamina and strength, I saw gains I didn't even dream I could make. In the beginning of the month, the fastest I could run on the treadmill was a 5.0; now I can sprint at 8.5. My starting hand weights were five pounds; now I can easily lift 12.
And the biggest change? Before Barry's, I looked at Kim K.'s body with envy and looked at my own with disgust. But during my last class, when I was dripping sweat and sprinting on the treadmill, I looked at myself in the mirror and actually saw a toned, athletic, hot body staring back at me. At the time, I chalked it up to the amazing lighting.
Now, I think I might have just seen myself ... as I really am.
It's 6:28 a.m. when I walk into Barry's Bootcamp, a West Hollywood institution that pumps out tight, toned, A-List bodies. I'm so nervous I think I might barf.
I make my way to one of the dozen treadmills that face the back wall while other bootcampers find a stepper that faces the front. I survey the scene. These people obviously take fitness seriously. They are perfectly toned, athletic looking (read: no fake boobs here), and all wear the same uniform -- a black tank, sports bra, black capri leggings, and high performance sneakers. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realize I look like a bum by comparison; my shorts ride up with every step and my sneakers? The tread is peeling off the bottom.
Note to self: Glue gun the sneaks.
At exactly 6:30 a.m. the lights dim and the club music gets louder. Barry -- a cammo-wearing personal trainer who resembles Rambo -- starts barking instructions and everyone starts moving quickly. Really quickly. As I crank up the speed and start to take my light jog to what feels like a sprint, I ask myself, "What the hell did I sign up for and more importantly, why?"
Then I remember: It's Kim Kardashian's fault.
I'll admit it -- I'm mildly obsessed with Kimmy K. right now. Maybe it's because I can't avoid her. She's on every magazine cover, TV channel, and gossip site. And if there's one thing about Kim K. that drives the media wild, it's her body. The secret to Kim's curves, they say? Barry's Bootcamp, a torture chamber that's churned out other hot celeb bodies (think Jennifer Lopez, Britney Spears, Jessica Alba, and Katie Holmes).
So where do I come in? Despite my lack of celeb superpower DNA, I want to know if I can get the same results as the A-List elite. Is Kim K.'s body really attainable? Can I get rock-hard abs, toned arms, and a slimmer waistline in a mere 30 days? There's only one way to find out � and it starts with a measuring tape.
